Rose Thorns
by Kitty Korpse
Summary: Johnny C. is on a quest to rid himself of all feeling, all emotion, but what happens when the love of his life keeps popping in his head, as well as the horrors of his past?
1. Weaving a Web of Thoughts

_**I don't own any of Jhonen's character, nor do I own the song. The song belongs to System of a Down, and the song is ATWA. Very good song :thumbs up: NOW READ**_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Hey you, see me, pictures crazy_

_All the world I've seen before me passing by_

_I've got nothing, to gain, to lose_

_All the world I've seen before me passing by_

The noise drifted up to the top of the hill like a haunting ghost call to Johnny C. He sighed as he closed his little black journal, wondering when he would indeed return to this place, this hill, and this city. Of course, part of him didn't want to return at all after this night. That city held too many horrible memories for him, memories he could do without. The same can be said for the hill where he now sat. Too many memories. Her face loomed in front of his mind's eye as he remembered. Devi D.'s vibrant, green eyes staring at him. His own eyes burned with tears as if they were on fire. Would he ever see her again?

After blinking the tears away a few times, he reminded himself why he was sitting on that hill. Why those tears could not come.

"Must not feel... no emotions... don't feel," he muttered. He didn't really mutter it to himself, nor to anyone in particular. He just muttered.

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it anymore_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it anymore_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it anymore_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it anymore_

Johnny slipped off the hood of his car and walked to the edge of the hill where a tiny wooden fence had been put up. It wasn't as though it did much good though, so many drunken teenagers had fallen off the hill it was pathetic. He looked down at the sea of lights and sound, without thinking of what he was going to do next. Abruptly he slid a knife out of his boot, watching it glint in the moonlight. And then, he drew his arm back and forward in a quick succession, flinging the knife out into the cold air. He watched it fall down, down, down, into the corrupt city below. He didn't even flinch when a blood-curdling scream reached his ears, an indication that his knife had impaled someone in the face. He closed his eyes, feeling a bit incomplete without that piece of metal. Throwing that knife was like throwing a piece of his life away. Johnny felt through that knife, felt hate, pain, and almost love. Love never actually flowed through that knife as the other emotions had. The source of that particular emotion had kicked his ass and ran for it. But he had to rid himself of that weapon, that tool-- it had to be done.

He was on a quest to rid himself of emotions, and killing awakened so many. To kill was to feel hate, to hate was to feel pain, and pain would restart the cycle all over again. He shook his head to rid all the new thoughts that had exploded inside his mind, and turned to get inside his car. As he sat down, his gaze happened to travel to the rear-view mirror and he saw his pale reflection in front of him, from his sunken, brown eyes, to the ringlets around them, to his untidy black hair. So ugly in his eyes.

_Hey you, are me, not so pretty_

_All the world I've seen before me passing by_

_Silent my voice, I've got no choice_

_All the world I've seen before me passing by_

_You don't care about how I feel_

Johnny turned his beat up car around and made his way down the hill, the trees around him casting eerie shadows on the ground. He half shivered, making his way to the little dirt road that would eventually somehow lead to the main highway, the main highway that would eventually lead to God knows where. God. That was a funny thing to think, for Johnny. He had met him once before, he remembered, and he wondered whether or not he was watching him. Then again, he figured he must be asleep. Then he remembered meeting Satan. He didn't seem much of a devil to Johnny, and Johnny had even considered trying to kill him.

_I don't feel it any more_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it any more_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it any more_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it any more_

_I don't see, anymore_

_I don't hear, anymore_

_I don't speak, anymore_

_I don't feel_

Johnny watched the dust from the road erupt around the sides of his car. He watched as they rose, expanded, then slowly fell back down, and he watched their motion all the way to the main highway. Somehow their motion reminded him of lungs, breathing in and out, in and out. He sighed slightly as he entered traffic, ignoring calls from other drivers, ignoring assholes cutting him off, ignoring everything in an attempt to keep him anger-free. Anger was an emotion, an emotion that he could not allow. And so as he drove on, the traffic thinned, and there were maybe four cars on the road. At first, Johnny expected more, and then he glanced at the watch on his bony wrist, and saw that it was 3:30 in the morning. Yet no thought of where to stay occurred to him, for he could just keep driving, keep driving until the sun shone, and then maybe he would stop. Maybe.

_Hey you, see me, pictures crazy_

_All the world I've seen before me passing by_

_I've got nothing, to gain, to lose_

_All the world I've seen before me passing by_

Pictures formed in his head as the drove, pictures of little Squee lying in bed waiting for the tap on his window that would never come. Pictures of Devi looking out the window obsessively, then slowly realizing Johnny was not going to bother her any longer. His eyes burned again. Quickly, he tried to put his mind on the road, but yet her face kept coming to the front of his mind. She would be the hardest to get rid of, and he would indeed work at it for years to come. He shook his head. He suddenly looked around at his surroundings, a series of trees and signs for food, rest areas, and gas stations. He turned on an exit to a gas station, now noticing that the tank was dangerously close to empty. He parked the car, turned it off, and got out. His legs were numb from not being moved for a long time. He limped slightly as he walked inside the little gas station and up to the counter to pay. He handed his money to the elderly lady, resisting two urges, one to kill her for the nasty look she gave him, and one to get a Brain Freezy. Not only was he to rid himself of emotions, but also physical needs and desires. He would eat when he absolutely had to, and now he still had a well full stomach. Or as full as it could ever get with Johnny C. A crossword puzzle book caught his eye though, and he figured that it couldn't hurt to get it. Whenever he did indeed stop to rest, it would give him something to do, something to take his mind off emotions.. of of Devi. so he bought it along with two pencils, in case one broke. He walked out of the gas station and was almost immediately stopped by two men, both smirking.

"Where the fuck you goin', faggot?" one of them hissed. He had a raspy sort of voice, and rather shorter than Johnny. Johnny ignored him, cast his eyes down, resisting urges, and tried to push his way through. The other man, taller than Johnny this time, grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back a bit, and the two advanced.

"Excuse me, we're not quite through with you, pussy!" he said in a deep voice. His bald head shined in the dim daylight. Johnny tried to keep calm, tried to control his emotions and urges.

"I don't want any trouble--", he started, but was cut off by a slap in the face. Somehow, slapping him was more hurtful and offensive than punching him, and Johnny couldn't resist this time. Without realizing what he was doing, he took the freshly sharpened pencils out of the paper bag he was holding with the book, and shoved one up the bald man's nose. He screamed as blood spurted out, showering the concrete below. Johnny stabbed the shorter man in the eye, pulled the pencil out, and stabbed the other one. He made a run for it, their screams growing louder no matter how far he ran. Panting, he started his car, furious with what he had done. He drove away, leaving the two men.

"Well... it wasn't as bad as usual. I could have pulled that guy's eyes OUT and tied them together or something," Johnny reasoned with himself. It was going to be a long, hard road out of feeling.

_I don't feel it any more_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it any more_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it any more_

_You don't care about how I feel_

_I don't feel it any more_

_I don't see, anymore_

_I don't hear, anymore_

_I don't speak, anymore_

_I don't feel_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_**End of chapter one. I know this was way too long, but my hands wouldn't stop typing ;; Anyway, r&r, and please don't flame. It's my first fic, so I know it's not that good. Shabam :P**_


	2. Things Aren't So Blurry Anymore

_**BAM. I got a review, and it was good! BAM. So here comes chapter two of Rose Thorns. ahahahaha. Okay here we go. Oh, and I know it says that it's an angst/romance, but it also has a tad bit of humor. Just a bit. **_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny had been driving for some time after the incident at the gas station. He had no idea where he was going, and yet at the same time certain surroundings were starting to look familiar, though he could not recall a memory with them. It was kind of like when you see someone out in public, and you feel as though you know the person, you just can't recall their name. Johnny squinted his eyes to see if there was a car up in the distance in front of him, and then switched his gaze to the rear view mirror. There were no other cars.

How strange.

But Johnny kept driving, and soon he could see a sign up ahead, but it was so far away that he could not read what it said. Johnny sighed as the sun started to shine brighter, and somehow it was already 9 AM. He tried to remember what time he had left that horrible city, but it was such a long time ago that he could not.

The sign was just ahead of him. He sat up a bit straighter as the words of the sign started to become clearer, and as he read it, he became confused. It clearly said:

"Welcome to the city of The Author Was Too Lazy To Name It!"

What a strange name. Johnny shrugged it off and passed the sign, willing to stop in this city to see if it differed from his old one at all. He looked around as he entered it, the towering buildings seemed to glare at him menacingly, and Johnny looked away from them. Yet as he looked straight ahead, another building, a lot smaller this time, caught his eye, and he gasped. A sign swinging above the door of the little building clearly said "Yummy Tummy Pastries."

Johnny suddenly knew where he was.

Immediately a scene played in his mind, from his own point of view, of him walking up to the building and seeing two slightly demonic looking dough boys. He remembered going inside the shop, and the kind old man giving them to Johnny, after noticing how Johnny examined them with interest. The memory went through his head as though on fast forward, and Johnny took a deep intake of breath and slammed on the brakes. While he had been remembering, he had almost crashed into the car in front of him. He had gotten used to no cars being around him. Johnny made a beeline for the shop, somehow feeling that he should revisit it. He parked and got out of his car, and walked up to the door, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why, but somehow he felt... what was it, scared? Nervous? He shook his head like a dog trying to shake off water and ticks, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, saying "Don't feel, don't feel, don't feel..." over and over in his head. He breathed deeply, and the feeling subsided.

His hand was reaching for the handle, the bell on the door chimed, and Johnny stepped inside. Johnny's gazed traveled to every crook and crevice, taking it all in. It hadn't changed a bit since he had last been there, since he had gotten Mr. Fuck and D-Boy. Even the old man was standing behind the counter. Johnny only noticed when the old man coughed slightly. Turning slowly on the spot, Johnny turned to face him.

"Oh... I remember you," the old man said. Johnny just stared.

"I remember you too. How the hell are you still alive? You were eighty years old when I last saw you," Johnny said, cocking his head. The old man smiled an eerie, toothless smile.

"Oh... I have my ways."

Johnny didn't want to inquire further, so he continued to stride around the shop, stopping here and there to look at the chocolatey and fattening goodness. He had just turned to leave, still not knowing why he had come here when the old man spoke again.

"You seem troubled. Is there something I could help you with?" The old man had gone from creepy to kind and concerned in a matter of minutes, and Johnny was taken aback. Shaking his head, he turned to leave.

"Are those little dough boys still giving you trouble?"

Johnny turned his head so fast to face the old man that he pulled something in his neck. Rubbing it, he glared at the old man. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. Still insane, are you? Yes, you were a little nutty when you first came in here, I could tell by your eyes. I gave you those dough boys, remember? I thought you needed some friends." He was grinning again. "Oh yes, friends who enjoys insanity as much as you do, friends who--" he was cut off by Johnny.

"I DON'T enjoy insanity. I DON'T enjoy what my life has become, and I don't enjoy the fact that it was you that gave those THINGS to me!" And with that, he turned and ran, breathing heavily, and jumped back in his car. He placed his hands on the top of the steering wheel and rested his head on his hands. What had brought him back to this place? He knew where he was, and this was the last place he wanted to be. To be here would flood his body with emotions, of hate, of pain, of terrible anger. He looked up, blinking back tears once more.

Johnny C. had returned home. But 'home' wasn't quite the right word for it. It was indeed the place that Johnny had grown up, indeed the place where things had started going wrong. And now he was back, back to the place that had caused him to become what he was today. Shoving these thoughts away, he started his car once more and left the little pastry shop, hardly thinking about where he was going, and yet he knew. He knew where those wheels were taking him and he could hardly stand the thought, and yet at the same time he was eager, sickeningly eager. As he drove, the blurry distorted memories he had come to know slowly started to get clearer, and he drove past his old school. He slowed down, and stared up at the gigantic red letters that spelled out "SKOOL". He remembered being pushed around on the playground, being pushed and shoved into the sand, skinning his knees. This time it wasn't as though a fog cleared his vision though, it was more like it was just happening, just that very second. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He drove on, for what seemed to be an hour and a half, when finally he had reached his destination. He had no idea how he had made it there, for he couldn't remember the directions. He parked the car and stepped out, looking up at an abandoned two story house, the white and blue pant peeling. He sighed heavily as he stepped up the stairs leading to the porch. He looked up at the door, with the peeling numbers of 267 barely visible. He sighed again, and choking back tears pushed the stubborn door open.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**BAMCLIFFHANGER. Ah isn't it obvious where he is? Yes well. I immensely enjoyed the old man. He reminded me of a walnut for some reason. This chapter wasn't that good, cuz I dunno. It just wasn't. But yeah. I promise the next chapter will be better. No flames please :puppy eyes: R&R though. **_


	3. Welcome 'home', Johnny

_**Mmmmyes. Good reviews, good reviews... I'm not so nervous anymore. You guys are so nice :gives each person a cookie: Yes. Yes yes yes. ON WITH THE FICCY**_

_**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

Johnny pushed the door open and kept his eyes closed, which was lucky, because a cloud of dust tickled his face and almost made him sneeze. Once he was sure the dust was cleared, he opened his eyes slightly, keeping them at a squint. Holding his breath, he stepped inside and shut the door. He looked to his right and saw a staircase with dark stains in the velvet rug covering them, and he saw that those stains seemed to have run all the way down the steps. The opening in the wall next to the stair case led to a kitchen, and Johnny shuttered to see a very, very old dinner still sitting there on the wooden table. To his left was another opening, larger this time, leading to the sitting room. Johnny wondered where he should start first. He stepped towards the steps and looked closer at the stains. He knew those stains too well. Those were stains of blood. He looked up the stair case, then glanced back towards the door, as if someone was going to walk in on him. He placed his foot on the first step and listened to it creak, and then took another step, and another, listening to them each time as though they were speaking to him, telling him to go farther and farther.

He had reached the top of the steps, and what he saw there made him freeze in his tracks. It was a skeleton, with dried blood covering most of it, with faded jeans and a V-neck shirt. It still had some skin on it's skull, somehow after all these years, and from what he could tell it had blonde hair, with a bit of the black roots showing, as well as flecks of gray and white. One eye was also still there, though only a bit, as it had been being eaten by maggots. This was clearly the corpse of his mother, Emma C. Johnny somehow thought that maybe she was supposed to have that little bit of flesh and hair, no matter how impossible it was. Maybe she was supposed to have it, so that, he, Johnny, could remember her.

And as he stared at it, memories of her filled his head, only slightly blurry. Memories of her sitting on the edge of her bed crying, memories of her pacing up and down the hallways at night, having insomnia herself, and even a few memories of her holding him. And there were also memories of that fateful day when...

His eyes burned again, and yet for some reason, he found he could not cry, he could not grieve over her dead body. Instead he stepped over it, and looked down the dark hallway. There, at the very end, he saw his bedroom door, still wide open, from where he had flung his door open when he heard his mother scream. Johnny walked towards the door, and found that he could not feel his legs anymore. With each step he took, the screaming in his head got louder and louder. He stepped inside and flipped the switch for the light, though nothing happened. Johnny reminded himself that since the house was so old and abandoned, the lights had clearly been turned off by the electric company. Then again, he wondered if they had had any lights at all in this house.

He looked around his old room. It's bare walls seemed to weep in his presence. He walked into the middle of the room and spun around three times, his eyes moving around like an eager toddler in a toy store. After the final spin the hugged himself, staring at the bare mattress that was once his bed. He never exactly slept there, but instead just laid there, listening to his parents in the other room arguing and fighting. They never had a good relationship. Johnny moved to the bed and sat on the edge of it, looking up to the ceiling. As he did so, voices filled his head. No, not voices of insanity; voices of his past.

_"Emma, please, for the last time, SHUT UP!" _

_"What's WRONG with you? All I'm saying is that you've had a little too much to drink! God, you're nothing but a disgusting pile of--"_

_A smack to the face. A cry of pain._

_"You will not talk to me that way! You know, you're nothing but a whore! And that's all you'll ever be! A WHORE!"_

Johnny shook his head to bring himself back to reality. As he thought about it, Johnny guessed that, in a way, his parents DID sort of care for him. And then again, they really didn't care. They cared enough to keep him alive and... well... not healthy. Just alive. Johnny rested his head in his right hand, thinking. He supposed his mother cared a little more than his father did.

His father. Now there was a thought. Johnny stood up slowly and walked out of his room, glancing from left to right as he walked down the long hallway. He passed by his mother's corpse again, barely glancing at it, and finally reached his parents door. It, too, was open. Johnny walked inside and looked around. All he could see in here was debris on the floor, as though the man who had killed his parents had struggled with his father. For some reason, he wanted to find his father's body. Johnny looked around a bit more in the room, even bending down to peek underneath the bed. Finally he glanced over his shoulder to his parents personal bathroom, and noticed that the door was slightly open. He walked over to it and pushed, closing his eyes and listening to the creaking of the door. He stepped inside and looked to the shower. The curtains were closed.

Johnny moved with the grace of a ghost cat and pulled back the curtain. There lay his father's skeleton. Johnny stared at it for a full minute until the sight of the man who had treated him like shit and beat his mother made him sick. He put his hand over his mouth, not to keep himself from vomiting, but to calm himself. It was just all too much. No matter how badly Johnny had wanted to know his past, to know what had gone so wrong, this was just too much. All in one day, he had revisited the pastry store that had cursed him with the voices of satanic dough boys and his childhood home. What was next, the fucking orphanage?

Orphanage? Where the hell did that come from? Johnny wondered this as he walked out of the bathroom, out of his parents room, and back down the steps. He did not want to look anymore. There were still other rooms, but he didn't want it. He merely sat in the sitting room and gazed out the window until sunset. He was trying to fish out memories of an orphanage, but that was still a little too blurry. He could only recall the outside of the building and the name of it. The rest was too hard to recall, though he knew without a doubt in his warped mind that the memories couldn't be good.

And suddenly he was out of the house, back in his car, and on his way to his second 'home'.

_**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

_**End of chapter three. I know I said this chapter would be better but... wow. that's... ew. And as for the humor thing, it just hasn't come yet. So just stay patient. R&R.**_


End file.
